Small Problem
by CheveronChick
Summary: "Gimli hadn't actually been sure if Legolas had ever, or could ever be in a bad mood. Since departing Rivendell he had witnessed the elf's smile and bright nature survive thunderstorms, hunger, heartache, and once even a deep slashing gouge across his stomach. But for some reason, this minor head wound and a shoulder injury had gotten the best of him? It didn't make sense."


Legolas had gone first as the lightest out of them all to investigate the precarious rocky pathway ahead of them before the heavier mortals to find the best path for them to travel. The same he had done on the Caraharas.

None had been particularly thrilled about the idea to begin with, but according to the elf the tree's had gone out of their way to warn them off near all other routes through this particular rocky part of the forest.

At first, it seemed not everyone was entirely certain if it was some sort of weird joke, but Aragorn had taken the information with all seriousness. And so the others had followed his lead.

Which had lead them to this ledge, with several very large and uninviting boulders waiting for them at the bottom in the dry riverbed. Admittedly, everything had been going much better than it had on that mountain before something far above them caused several large rocks to cascade towards their walkway.

Before Gimli could even hear a single thing, Legolas had shouted for them all to move along quickly as they could while he himself leapt off the path and easily grabbed an outcropping below them, and scrambled back exactly the way he had just told them to run away from with all haste.

The rest of the Fellowship did not need to be told something like that with such urgency a second time before they were moving as quickly as possible across the rocks. It wasn't until after he heard the terrible crashing sound and a distinctly terrified yelp from Sam.

It seemed before even one single second was up, it was over.

Gimli turned his head in time to see that Boromir had managed to catch a tight hold on the little hobbit's hand and pulled him up and over the edge of a huge gap where they had literally just been standing.

Far below them, Legolas lay below them amongst the rocks. Achingly still.

It almost seemed as if the Fellowship had taken a collective breath. They had just lost Gandalf, they couldn't lose another. They couldn't. Sam, the poor thing, seemed near ready for death with the multitude of emotions overtaking him.

"Legolas!" Aragorn called down desperately, as loudly as he would dare under the circumstances.

It seemed like the world held its breath with him as Gimli waited for any sort of sign of life, pointedly ignoring that even from this distance he could distinctly see red seeping into the usually pristine blond hair.

Frodo took Sam's hand in comfort, and Merry placed a hand on his shoulder.

Blessed be a groan barely managed to echo up to them, and then after a few more seconds Legolas flopped over onto his back. It was hard to tell who was more faint with relief; Sam or Aragorn.

Legolas' voice drifted up to them in Elvish, and both Aragorn and Frodo managed breathless and relieved laughs. It was the human who translated for the rest of them, "He says 'Do not fear for me, the rocks broke my fall.'"

Aragorn seemed to be surveying a possible route down when more elvish drifted up from below. This time it was Frodo who translated, "He said, 'If you try and come down here I'm sending you back to Imladris to tell your father what an absolute idiot he raised."

This time, Gimli laughed, "He's well enough, then."

With another groan, Legolas pulled himself into a sitting position as the rest of the Fellowship continued to survey him from above. Nonchalantly he grabbed his arm with his other hand and pulled a shoulder Gimli hadn't yet noticed wasn't where it was supposed to be back into place.

He couldn't help but cringe at the sight, and the distinct 'pop'.

This time Legolas' voice was in the common tongue, "Continue down the path, it is not much farther. I will meet you there at the end."

To Gimli's surprise, Aragorn seemed like he didn't have a single argument for these orders. Even though Legolas was now injured and alone in the very forest they had climbed up here to avoid.

As if noticing his distaste Aragorn said, "The lot of us would never have been able to so much as breathe within those trees without getting discovered. If Legolas is alone, he'll probably meet us at the end after having time for a brief nap. The Orcs will never know he was ever anywhere nearby them, trust me. And if not me, trust that the weapons master of Greenwood trained rogues and assassins and just common warriors."

…**.**

As predicted, the elf had beaten them to the other side. Jumping down from a tree and startling nearly every single one of them half to death. Before anybody could say anything, Legolas turned his attention to Sam with a bright smile, "I am quite well, Samwise. Far better than you would have been after such a fall, and I will heal better than you. Have not guilt in your heart for this."

How impossible it seemed that not even this could take the smile from his face and the joy from his heart.

Aragorn stalked closer, investigating every bruise and cut he could find to his satisfaction. Legolas allowed it, only briefly commenting, "Not that you do not trust my word or anything."

"When it comes to your health?" Aragorn grunted, gingerly moving clumps of bloodied hair aside to inspect his scalp, "No. Absolutely not."

Legolas just rolled his eyes.

Eventually, though, Aragorn had to admit that the Elf seemed to be largely unharmed, considering. And so they decided that they ought to find a better place to make camp, and then allow him to rest.

**0.0.0. **

Somehow, he knew that Legolas was now in a foul mood. Though he did not understand why, since his good cheer had remained for several hours more of travel that day but then suddenly soured when they made camp.

Upon meeting him Gimli hadn't actually been sure if Legolas had ever, or _could_ ever be in a bad mood. Since departing Rivendell he had witnessed the elf's smile and bright nature survive thunderstorms, hunger, heartache, and once even a deep slashing gouge across his stomach.

But for some reason, this minor head wound and a shoulder injury had gotten the best of him? It didn't make sense.

He was even more certain of his assumption as he watched Aragorn throw his hands up in a combination of defeat and frustration at attempting to communicate with the damned elf and stock his way back to the camp where everyone else was sitting, leaving Legolas alone once more by the lakeside.

The elf's back was to them, his knees pulled to his chest and head resting on his arms folded over his knee. For perhaps the first time Gimli had ever seen his hair hung plain and long down his back, without a single braid in sight. Earlier in the day Aragorn had thoroughly but gently washed all the blood out of Legolas' hair, and it appeared he just hadn't bothered to put the braids back in.

"What's wrong with him?" Sam asked hesitantly, eyes scuttling back and forth between Aragorn as he sat across the fire from the hobbits, and Legolas sitting alone on the shoreline. Fearful, guilty.

Aragorn's frown deepened, if possible. "It isn't you, I know that for certain. Other than that, only the Valar knows by this point Sam, and he's being absolutely ridiculous and argumentative about whatever it is."

Frodo didn't seem satisfied by this answer, "What does he have to be upset about now? If nothing earlier."

Aragorn idly began puffing on his pipe before he bothered to respond "He is King Thranduil's son after all, sometimes more obviously than others. In my personal experience, it seems the Woodland King hides every emotion under a deep layer of anger and resentment, I'm sure our joyful woodelf will return to us soon."

Gimli looked back over to the elf.

He wasn't convinced about Aragorn's words. He knew that Aragorn had known Legolas longer than he, significantly so, but from Gimli's perspective Legolas did not look angry or resentful. He looked sad. Maybe even defeated.

He had never seen the elf truly angry, which was probably for the best. Gimli got the distinct impression that very few things survived if they did, and should Legolas show the mercy to let them keep their lives it was absolutely no question that his words could cut deeper than any sword.

No. The elf was not angry. Frustrated perhaps, but not angry.

Betraying both his words and his tone, Gimli noticed Aragorn continue to glance worriedly at his friend. Legolas continued to pretend they weren't there.

…**.**

Gimli allowed Legolas to be alone until after they had finished cleaning up their dinner plates, discluding Legolas' since he was not inclined to eat that night, to see if he would be able to free himself from whatever pit he had fallen in. He had even stopped Aragorn from going to check on him, figuring time alone was best.

But now as the sun was starting to set, and all the hobbits and Boromir were deeply engrossed in a story Aragorn was telling them Gimli decided it was a good as time as any to investigate things for himself.

As quietly as he could Gimli got to his feet and backed away from the fire, only briefly Aragorn's appreciative gaze before the human turned back to his audience. He made no rush to reach the elf, and Legolas made nearly no indication he existed.

A common habit he had, Gimli noticed. Whether he intended to do it or not. His hearing allowed him to be aware of things long before any creature probably ought to be, and it seemed by the time people actually got to him, his mind had wandered already.

Gimli sat down without invitation.

Even in the twilight Gimli could see the dark bruise curving up Legolas' neck near halfway to his jaw from the shoulder that had been dislocated earlier that day, and several other bruised to join it. Even now he seemed largely unbothered by his injuries.

They both watched the fish jump in an effort to catch the night-time bugs fluttering above the water, and then Gimli said, "So the way I figure, if it was a problem you could fix on your own, you would have by now. But you haven't, and so I reckon you can't."

Legolas moved his glare from some unlucky lightning bug to Giml for a moment, "Perhaps."

"Then just tell me what to do and I will do it." Legolas narrowed his eyes in scrutiny, maybe trying to see if the offer was sincere or not. "Aragorn is telling the others a story, there is absolutely nobody paying attention to what's happening here."

That didn't appear to convince him anymore. Maybe it was his pride getting in the way, "If it helps, once, my Uncle Dwalin had to remove three arrows from my buttocks slightly closer to my more, sensitive, areas each time. Whatever help you need, cannot be more embarrassing than that."

That got a smile out of him, a half-hearted one but a smile nonetheless, "You have a point there, my friend. Although, I can assure you I've had far more embarrassing injuries than that."

Storing that piece of information away for future interrogation he continued with the problem at hand, "Then it should be not a problem for you to just come out and ask for what you need."

This time he got a smile and a glare. "I would have asked Estel..."

"But you didn't."

"No, he is not good at it. Try as he might."

"So, what is it then?"

Legolas sighed, "I can't redo my braids, and Estle isn't good enough to do it for me."

Gimli blinked. All of this mood was just because he did not have braids in his hair? His first instinct was to make a joke, but his empathetic heart knew better than that. If Legolas was upset about something so trivial as his hair decorations, there was a reason.

He desperately wanted to ask what the reason was, but figured after how well Aragorn's conversation with him had gone perhaps that wasn't the most idle topic. So instead he said, "Well, lucky for you us dwarves are born with the knowledge of how to braid. We're a hairy people. So it might take me a try or two, but I'm certain I can do them to even your satisfaction.

Legolas blinked at him a few times in surprise and then asked sounding both delighted and touched, "Really?"

"Yes."

As expected, it took Gimli several tries to get the right hand on this unique type of braid, but it reminded him of the ones he used to enjoy putting in his mother's hair when he had been young. But Legolas gave good and clear instructions, and so by the fourth try Legolas decided he would not have to re-do them another time.

It sounded as if the story at the campfire was winding to an end when Legolas said to the darkness with no prompting from Gimli, for once. "My Nana did my hair like this the day she died. I've done it the same every single day ever since, and when I cannot do it, my Ada does. This would have been the first day in my life that I did not have that little piece of her with me."

He continued to pull the strands together in even chunks, he had never heard Legolas say anything about his mother, and only a handful about his father. "She is with you no matter how you have your hair, Legolas."

"Yes." He agreed easily, "But it's a constant reminder of her. Its harder to forget her voice and how she smelled, even with all the darkness in the world. I think we could all use a little bit of permanent light in our lives, that's mine."

Gimli tied over the braid and watched as Legolas felt along them for imperfections when he apparently found none he turned to Gimli with a bright smile. Their cheerful woodelf had returned indeed, "Thank you, Gimli."

He nodded in return, "Now come and eat something before you waste away, silly elf."

**o.o.o.**


End file.
